


The Secret Prisoner

by DameNoctis



Series: The Secret Prisoner [1]
Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Drama, Gen, Marian has issues, NOT a bashing fic, Revenge, Torture, Whump, but not really that bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-05 07:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11008356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DameNoctis/pseuds/DameNoctis
Summary: Unwilling to tolerate Guy's unwanted advances or crimes any longer, Marian takes matters into her own hands. She's had enough, and he will pay.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol, I'm so late to this fandom, but I didn't end up watching Robin Hood until a few months ago. I never really intended to post this fic, mostly because I wrote it on a whim and for myself, but hopefully somebody will enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Trigger warning for some torture 'cause I'm a crazy writer that likes to whump on my favorite characters (fairly mild compared to what I usually get up to, though). This is not a bashing fic, I like both Guy and Marian. 
> 
> There are only two chapters. Takes place somewhere in the latter half of season two.

The plan was set, the hour chosen. The location was picked very carefully so as to not arouse suspicion. It was somewhere both she and he could be seen and no one would think anything of it. The plan would ensure no one was the wiser - not the sheriff, not his men, not even Robin. He couldn't know; she knew he wouldn't approve, and for more than one reason.

When the time came, it had been all-too easy. Complications had been expected, or for him to at least put up a fight, but in the end he was caught completely unawares. It had been night, and he was likely tired from his day, but she didn't think about that. She was happy that he'd gone down easily. She could rub it in his face later.

She couldn't wait to see his face, to see the surprised look in his eye, to see it slowly morph into anger at her betrayal.  _Humph_. 'Betrayal'. How could she betray him when she'd never been loyal in the first place? She had never cared for him and she never could.  _Never._  She would rub that in his face, too.

The new hour had been chosen as well. The hour when she would walk into that small, abandoned room and reveal herself. She would wear her Nightwatchman clothes. And why not? It would surely dig the dagger deeper, make it more painful all at once, if he knew.

As she stood before the door, the tapestry that typically hid it drawn aside, she placed the final piece of her ensemble upon her face.  _The Nightwatchman_. He would think, at first, that it all made sense - to some degree, anyway. The Watchman was an enemy of the sheriff, after all, so he would think it made sense. At the thought of what would come next, she smiled behind her mask.

The door, slowly, creaked open.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

There was only a single torch lit in the corner of the dusty room, so Marian lit another. She didn't want to miss anything, to miss a  _single_  twitch or tweak, for everything in his face and body to be seen with ease. He'd pay, and she wanted to see him pay. This plan wouldn't be for nothing. He'd  _pay_.

She stared at him for some time, wondering how she should wake him. Some part of her wondered why he hadn't woken yet, but the tincture she'd given him using his meal was strong. He'd stumbled and mumbled his way to this room as she led him, but he had seemed fine, mostly. Perhaps it had been too strong...

But no, he was breathing. She could see his chest rise and fall, as well as the way the slit of his open mouth moved nearly imperceptibly with each breath, as if with cold. Well, perhaps he  _was_ cold. It was winter still, and this long-forgotten part of the castle was not warmed by any fires, and likely hadn't been for some time. If he was cold, though, she didn't care.

She observed him further. Although she had always thought him handsome, it wasn't until now, with his face devoid of sneers or his typical harshness, that she truly found him pleasing to look upon. What a strange thought to have, she mused, but she couldn't help it. She didn't care to help it. Why should she? She had no set course here, except, for once, to do whatever she wanted. There would be no restrictions on her actions any longer. The game had been played for far too long and she'd had  _enough_. So, if she wanted to think him beautiful in this flickering light, that it might be fun to kiss him when he couldn't do anything about it, then she would. There was nobody to stop her, nobody to tell her what to think, and for the first time in a  _very_  long time, she felt free. There was no Robin, no father, no sheriff, and, most of all, there was no  _Gisborne_  to tell her what to do. She would do what she pleased with him, and there was nobody to stop her.

A low groan escaped, very slowly, from the man on the floor. Startled from her reverie, Marian was suddenly very tempted to hurt him for interrupting her thoughts. She could, she realized, of course she could. She could crack some ribs and maybe he'd scream, and nobody would ever hear him.

For whatever reason, though, she didn't.

Only moments later, after a few more groans, his long, dark lashes fluttered, his eyes slowly opening.

Leaning down and watching him closely, Marian said, "Wake up, sleepy head. Or should I say:  _Sir Guy_." She made no attempt to disguise her voice, but she knew she would sound muffled, which might hide her voice anyway. It didn't matter; she had no intention of hiding.

Shutting his eyes against the light, Gisborne attempted to touch his head, but was stopped by the rope linking his wrists to his ankles. Feeling this, his eyes immediately went wide as he looked around and at himself. "What is the meaning of this?" he hissed angrily.

But of course he would.

Marian laughed breathily and stood up straight, hands on her hips. She also made no attempt to hide her figure, knowing he would notice she was a woman - or at least once his shock wore off.

"I said-!" He stopped and hissed, again attempting to grab his head, but being unable he settled for a wince.

She'd forgotten that he would have a terrible headache, and it was unlikely to go away any time soon, either. She chuckled at that.

Glaring up at her, Gisborne squinted as he struggled to sit up against the wall. His eyes again went wide. " _You_...? Since when do you kidnap people?" He was clearly trying to hide his mounting nervousness and he breathed harshly through his nose. Marian wondered what interesting thoughts were running through his raven-haired head.

"Since today," she joked. This game had only just begun and she was already enjoying herself.

She chuckled again when his eyes went even wider. "You're a woman," he stuttered as he stared.

"How nice of you to notice." She smiled behind her mask. When would he figure her out..?

He looked her up and down next, as if scrutinizing her appearance, as if, somehow,  _doubting_ , and it suddenly sent a burst of rage through Marian. Without thinking, she cracked him straight in the face with her elbow, the obvious  _crunch_  of his nose sending him to his side on the floor. He cried out, in both surprise and pain, and she wondered if she imagined a small prick of a tear starting at his eye.

"What was that for?!" Guy shouted as he bared his teeth. He finally brought up his legs so he could touch his face, however, so apparently he no longer cared how ridiculous he would look in that position. That was amusing, if only because it had taken him so little to abandon his dignity for a bit of comfort. He cradled his face, then looked at the blood on his hands that poured from his nose. Marian found it disappointing that he didn't seem very worried at that, but then, a man like him had likely suffered such injuries before. If she wanted a different reaction, clearly she'd have to try harder.

When Marian leaned down toward him, she was extremely gratified that he flinched back, as if expecting another strike. Still, there was the fiercest look in his eye, as if he was vowing to kill her - at least in his mind. Everything about that gaze had seemed so harsh and intimidating to her in the past, but now he was like a caged beast; still dangerous, if only he could escape captivity. Alas, it wouldn't be so. She had planned this too carefully, and for too long.

"Well?" he said, still glaring at her. "What's your purpose, or do you not-" She struck him across the face again, this time with a backhand. He grimaced and fell back again, silenced, but he continued to glare at her.

Looking at her glove, Marian noticed blood. It was strange to see blood. The thought hadn't occurred to her that she should expect that. She was here to hurt him, after all. It was only unfortunate that he had no family that she could take from him, the same way he had taken her family from her - no matter that he wasn't directly responsible. But more than that, he had hurt her so much over the years. Perhaps not all at once, and perhaps not even intentionally, but that made it all the worse. It was like draining blood from somebody, somebody you proclaim to love, slowly and carefully, and all the while thinking you were helping them when all you were doing was  _killing them_. He had done it all for himself, even if he lied to himself that it was also for her. She  _hated_  him, had always hated him, but he was so blinded by his own ambition and desire that he refused to see every glare she saved for him, every terrible thought that played so obviously on her face.

He was blind, yes, so perhaps she should blind him now?

Stepping over to the table behind her, she grabbed a long piece of white cloth.

"What are you doing?" asked he, and the slight strain in his voice was not lost on her. He'd either only now noticed her table of instruments, or he'd hoped it was only for decoration. Amusing. Yet she wasn't all that amused right now.

Stepping toward him, she lifted the cloth and said, "A gift for you, Sir Guy. A blindfold for a blind man."

"What-" he began, but she was already tying the cloth around his head and his efforts to wrench his head away were in vain. She tied it securely, not caring if it was too tight.

"Do not worry," said Marian as she removed her hood and mask, "you'll  _see_  soon enough."

Suddenly Guy was breathing harshly, breaths shakily going in and out. "No..." he murmured quietly. At first she thought he was afraid, but as that didn't seem likely - at least not so soon - she realized he had probably recognized her voice.

He shook his head, and again said a little louder, " _No_." He seemed adamant, as if he needed only convince himself of the truth - or rather, the lie.

"You know who I am," Marian stated.

Again, he shook his head.

"Yes, you do," she said. "Tell me."

Yet again he shook his head, and looked to be trying to hide, or to get away somehow. " _No_ ," he growled through his teeth.

Suddenly frustrated, Marian shouted, " _Tell me who I am!_ " She kicked him across his stomach, then did it several more times.

" _No!_ " he screamed as he curled up at her assault.

"You're  _despicable_!" she screamed back, then spat on him. "You're everything that's  _wrong_  with this world- you  _and_  your master!"

She kicked him again and was satisfied at the, albeit small, whimper that escaped him when she kicked the same spot a second time. Wanting to hear the sound again, she kicked the spot a third time, somewhere along his ribs, and was satisfied to hear him shout in pain this time.

"Why are you doing this?!" Guy wheezed out when she'd stopped, but the question only made her angrier. This time she targeted his legs, kicking even harder there, knowing she wouldn't have to hold back as much without any vital organs to hit. Again, Guy shouted, " _Why-?!_ " but was cut off when Marian continued her assault, but this time, without stopping.

It was only after she was very, very tired did she stop. She nearly collapsed backward, but instead stood awkwardly, determined not to fall down or otherwise let him know what was happening.

Guy was curled up in a ball, still trying to shield himself should she continue. It was pathetic.  _He_  was pathetic. She wanted to spit on him again, but he deserved far worse. Considering for a moment that she  _would_ continue, instead she said, very quietly, coldly, enunciating every word: "Ask  _why_  again,  _Sir Guy of Gisborne_ , and next time I will not stop until you are  _dead_."

With that said, Marian picked up her mask, put it on her face, then walked out the door and locked it behind. As she walked away, she had to use every ounce of strength she had not to fall.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

It was a dream and she knew it, but with everything in her she could do nothing about it.

Before her stood Robin of Locksley, a cheeky grin on his face. In her mind's eye, he always sported that grin - one part mischief, one part amusement, and completely and utterly _him_. He was her friend, and possibly, someday, somehow, her husband.

Behind her stood Guy of Gisborne, a hand ever so lightly ghosting across her left shoulder. She shuddered at that hand, even as it barely touched her.

Robin continued to smile at her as if he didn't notice. She tried to tell him, to tell him to get that hand off, but he only stood there, smiling. Next, she tried to turn, to tell Guy to stop touching her, but she couldn't turn, and he didn't stop. Then another hand was on her other shoulder, but this one belonged to Robin. She looked up at him, to smile in return, but he was no longer smiling. There was something horrifying about that, but she didn't know why. He did nothing else, he only stood there, not smiling.

Marian started screaming at Robin, but he was gone. When she went to scream at Gisborne - for what reason she wasn't sure - he too had gone. She looked around, but no one was there, only the empty places where they'd stood stretching on like endless night.

Gasping awake and bolting up, Marian all but choked on the sound she made. For a moment, she looked around the room, as if she could spot Robin, or Guy, but nobody was there. Sighing in relief, she sat for a few moments, trying to catch her breath.

When she was ready to get up, she cast off the dream immediately. Today was the day - today she would make him acknowledge her, to  _see_  her and to see what she would do to him. He had taken so much from her so she would take  _everything_  from him. Then, when she was finished, if she was perhaps feeling merciful, she  _might_  take his life as well, which was more a mercy than he deserved.

But not just yet...

The way down to the disused parts of the castle were long, but not because it was far. Old war machines littered the floors of several rooms on the way to her destination, and she picked through them neatly, not wanting to suffer a splinter. How funny that would be, to get a splinter when her captive would likely be suffering so much soon he'd beg for a mere  _splinter_.

She entered the last room and closed the door behind, then replaced the torch on the wall. When she turned around she was somewhat startled to find that Gisborne had not moved at all since the night before. He lay curled up, still blindfolded, dried blood covering the entirety of his lower face and down his neck, his hands and legs still bound exactly as before. On closer inspection, there was one difference: his wrists were reddened and raw. So. He  _had_  tried to escape. Although by the look of him he hadn't tried very hard, not to mention that ropes weren't as easy to escape from as people thought.

When the door had closed, he'd twitched a little, but otherwise he remained still.

"You came back," he said, and Marian had no idea what to do with the surprise in his voice. Why would he think she wouldn't return?

Ah, of course. "Did you think I would allow you to die so easily, Sir Guy?"

He said nothing as he swallowed, and Marian again wondered what thoughts ran through his head.

Slowly, she walked around him, seeing him from every angle. Although he remained still, it was obvious he was following her every move, like a deer that had just seen a predator but could not get away. A  _predator_... was that what she was? And what a delicious irony that Guy of Gisborne could ever be compared to prey. He'd killed so many, after all, like they were but meat for the slaughter and he the butcher that threw them away.

After the silence had stretched on for some time, Gisborne asked, very quietly, "Do you hate me so?"

Like the night before, Marian's anger was stoked suddenly, but for whatever reason, she was not spurred to attack. Instead, she walked to her table of instruments, if only to have something to do. She said, "The fact that you ask me that is evidence enough you think nothing of the crimes you have committed."

"Committed against who? You?" he asked, a little louder. There was just a hint of his usual spirit in his words, and it was suddenly enough to push her over the edge of anger.

"Be quiet!" she shouted as she kicked him, but she paid no heed to where. He yelped in pain and hid his body behind arms and legs as he lay on his side, and now she wondered why she'd tied him that way. A chair would have been better, more convenient. Of course, she much preferred him on the ground, where he  _deserved_  to be, down in the dust like the snake he was.

Annoyed at his questions, Marian quickly grabbed another cloth and rushed to him to silence him with a gag. Like the blindfold, he gave an effort to struggle, but he was weaker now than yesterday and she had little trouble forcing it in his mouth and around his head. He said something in protest but it was muffled, and she found great satisfaction in his inability to ask any more of his stupid questions. This was  _her_  time, not his, and she had no reason to answer him or do anything he wanted.

Elated suddenly, she slapped him lightly on the cheek, but he flinched as if she'd hit him much harder. She laughed at this, and made a point to grin wider. It was so wonderful, so freeing to not feel the need to hide any longer, to express whatever emotion she wished, when she wished. Life in the castle had become unbearable, and without her father around any more...

A shadow suddenly came over her, anger again rekindled.  _Her father._  It had been her own thought, but it was  _Gisborne_  that was ultimately responsible for these thoughts in the first place. Every sorrow and hurt that she now carried linked back to him, always back to him, and now more than ever she wanted to make him pay.

She stared intently at her table of instruments, trying to decide which to start with. Despite that she had carefully and thoughtfully picked each and every one, they were suddenly too complicated, too unwieldy for her single-minded purpose;  _simple_ now seemed most effective. These metal bits of tools would no doubt work beautifully at another time, but she found herself less willing to try them all of a sudden.

Looking at Gisborne, she walked to him and watched him; eyes roving up and down. He was still curled up on his side, and although it was slight, he was shivering. He had, of course, spent the whole night here, and even with it being daytime it was still very cold. Deciding on a course of action, Marian grabbed a pair of shears from the table. She lowered herself to her knees beside him, then, quite purposefully, held the metal edge of the tool against his throat. He inhaled sharply and leaned his head back, probably thinking it a dagger.

Smiling at his reaction, Marian said, "As I said, Sir Guy, you will not die so easily." She moved the shears down and began cutting at his clothing, going straight down his chest from the throat. She could just as easily have undid his clothing without cutting into them, but she was afraid it would seem far too...sensual, and less intimidating. He made a few small noises of confusion in response. Unfortunately, once she got closer to his belt, she began having some difficulty given his position on his side - his arms were in the way. Feeling frustrated, she considered what to do for a few moments, but did not care to think on it too much. She growled and pushed him so he was lying flat. To her surprise, Guy whimpered as he was forced on his back. Although a very brief and knee-jerk pang of sympathy shot through Marian, she quickly stamped it out and reminded herself who he was. He deserved none of her sympathy, and all of her contempt. Perhaps later she would find out what injury she had aggravated, but for now she simply finished cutting open his shirt.

She stared at him for a moment, but very quickly regretted what she'd just done. Not only did she find herself _extremely_  irritated at her own thoughts of how nicely toned his chest was, but there was no way this didn't seem...sexual, in some manner. But perhaps it was only her? His chest, despite her initial thoughts, was also littered with dark bruises, and the way his lungs expanded and contracted quickly was most likely a sign of apprehension, not arousal. She suddenly felt stupid for even considering that he might think that.

Yet...

Why was she even caring? She had vowed to herself before this all began that she  _wouldn't care_  about what he thought, or even about her own reservations with how she treated him. If she wanted to ogle him - which was likely what he had done many times to her - then she would do so, and without shame. No thought should be hidden here, she would _not_  stop herself as she had always done her entire life, as was expected of a  _proper_  lady. No. No more.

Making up her mind, Marian leaned close to him and said in a lilting voice, "What a  _lovely_  sight you are, Sir Guy." Even as she said it, she felt strange. But she'd already said it and she refused to feel bad about it.

As expected, Guy's brow furrowed slightly in confusion. She didn't like that for some reason. Although it still felt awkward, she was determined to make him feel as uncomfortable as she was. Taking a finger, she, very lightly, moved it down his chest. She watched his face for any reaction - even if she didn't know what reaction he should be having to this.

She said, "Whatever's the matter? Isn't this what you've always wanted?"

A small, somewhat confused growl escaped his throat, but it was muffled and she couldn't figure out what he meant by it. Was he angry? Still confused? Did he like this, hate this-  _what?_ At her mounting frustration, she ripped the cloth gag out of his mouth. Guy started and gasped, just as surprised as she.

"Well?" Marian hissed, uncertain why she'd just done that.

After taking a moment to simply breathe, Guy stuttered, "Well what? What do you want me to say?"

She bared her teeth at him. "Do you  _like it_  or  _not_?"

"What? What is wrong with you-"

She slapped him  _hard_  across the face and he shouted in surprise. "Does that answer your question?"

"No, it doesn't!" Guy yelled as he attempted to again shield himself, but given his position on his back, he couldn't. Before he could move to his side again, Marian quickly jumped to straddle him so he couldn't.

Not holding anything back, she again struck him across the face, this time with a backhand.

" _Ah!_ " he shouted, and when she hit him again, he said, "Stop!" Of course she did no such thing. She hit him again, this time hard enough to draw blood. His cheek was cut, probably from the metal studs on her glove.

"Oh," purred Marian condescendingly, "does that hurt, Sir Guy?"

"Yes! Now stop!"

"I don't take orders from you," she said, smirking. She backhanded him again, and smiled at his struggle to free his arms so he could shield himself. It was an amusing sight and Marian continued to hit him - sometimes lightly, sometimes not - for some time afterward.

She wasn't sure how much time had past when she stopped. Guy was breathing heavily and, disappointingly, had stopped trying to bring up his arms to shield himself; it wasn't as much fun. Face red from her many strikes, he also had several small cuts that bled profusely. That was fine, faces always bled more than one would think normal. His once-white blindfold was no longer very white.

Leaning down so her arms flanked his head, Marian whispered, "Now wasn't that fun, Sir Guy?"

He coughed out a feeble: " _No_."

Amused at his answer, Marian smiled and bit her lip. What, oh  _what_  could she do next? Without care for his injuries, she plopped her forearms onto his chest to rest there. He stifled a noise of pain; she chuckled. It was obvious he was having trouble breathing, so she, very casually, poked around his chest with a finger. "Does that hurt?" she asked occasionally. He turned his head away and was grinding his teeth, probably in preparation for-

At a certain spot, he made a noise of pain and flinched.

"So it  _does_  hurt," Marian mocked as she eyed the spot along the left side of his ribcage. Very lightly, she ghosted a finger over the area. Guy's breaths went in and out shakily as she did so. "Does it hurt here?" she asked softly, in almost a whisper.

"Don't..." said Guy through his teeth, head still turned.

"No?" Marian teased. "Then what would you prefer I do? Kiss you?"

He was inhaling and exhaling harshly through his nose, and his head turned just a hair toward her, but he didn't answer.

"Well, Sir Guy? Would you prefer a kiss or not?"

"You...you are giving me a choice?" he asked, voice pitching higher, his head turning a little more toward her.

"Yes, I am."

Although he seemed reluctant, he turned to face her more fully, his throat bobbing when he swallowed. He then nodded, if clumsily.

Marian had no idea why she was doing this, but now that she was set on this course, it seemed like a good idea. Very lightly, she leaned down and kissed his lips - barely a peck. Even so, Guy seemed quite anxious, as if he didn't believe she wouldn't still hurt him. He lay rigidly, and although his breath was more steady, he didn't seem to be letting his guard down. Not that he could have put his guard _up_  in the first place.

Marian smiled at him. "Was that more to your liking, then?"

"I..." he began, swallowed heavily, "Yes."

How amusing this was! How confused he must be, not knowing what to expect: a strike or a kiss. Marian had thought mere pain would be enough, that she would simply torture him physically, but she'd forgotten that Gisborne truly did care for her, that manipulating his emotions would be easy and a far worse torture than whatever she could do to his body.

"Stop this, my lady," he said, voice thick with emotion suddenly. "Stop this before-"

"Before what?" hissed Marian. "And are you trying to  _order_  me again, Sir Guy?" She slipped her hand to his chest again, her fingers hovering and ready to  _hurt_ if he said something she didn't like.

He was clearly getting the message. "N-no, not at all. But if the sheriff found you, he would-"

"I don't think you understand.  _I don't care_  anymore. I don't care about him, I don't care about you, I don't care about  _any of it._ This is where I draw the line. You're detestable and horrid and  _evil_ , and-and I  _hate_  you. I took you and now you're mine." Annoyed suddenly, at him, at herself, at the sheriff or  _somebody_  - she didn't care to think - she growled and grabbed Guy by the back of the head and rammed her mouth into his. Startled, he tried to protest, but his words were muffled as she continued to kiss him. He did  _not_ kiss her back.

She pulled back for a moment and he gasped, "My lady, this is not-"

Again she roughly kissed him, not caring to hear what he had to say. She also didn't care to acknowledge that she had no idea what she was doing right now. It was true that she hated him, but she also  _wanted_  him. She had always wanted him, but she didn't dare admit it to herself. She loved Robin, loved him so much, but he was never around. And when he was around, it was always to ask for some favor, or to hear about whatever new scheme she had learned from the sheriff; he was never there  _for her_. But Guy...he was always there. Standing around with that incessant icy glare, with black leather, condescending smirks, and such a dark mien that it was as if a storm cloud perpetually followed him. She could never want a relationship with him, but she could  _want_  him, and those feelings wouldn't stay contained any longer.

When she finally released him, he breathed heavily and tried to pull away, but he said nothing, surprisingly.

Staring at him, Marian was suddenly annoyed with his face. In fact, everything about him annoyed her: his raven hair, his stubbled jaw, his ridiculously tall stature, the way he stood and glared at passers-by, as if he could tell them how he felt with nothing but his piercing gaze, that they were  _beneath_ him.

Without thought, Marian covered his mouth with one hand, then pinched his nose with the other. He had to  _suffer_ , and her immediate irritation with him was his face, so she attacked it. If she had thought his struggling to get away from her assault before was fierce, she had clearly been wrong. Suddenly deprived of air, he bucked severely and tried to toss and turn, legs kicking, to get her off any way he could; prey caught in a trap. Any other time perhaps he would have succeeded, but he was weak from his injuries and lack of nourishment.

When he almost stopped his struggles, she let him go. He gasped for air and coughed, but when he looked ready to say something, she again covered his mouth and nose. He tried to shake his head and struggled again to throw her off, but he gave up much quicker this time, falling still and likely praying she would free him again before he suffocated. Of course, she did. He coughed desperately and gasped for air. For whatever reason, Marian couldn't find as much pleasure in this as she had with her other assaults. She couldn't figure out why, especially as this was the first time he seemed truly...afraid.

"Marian, please!" Guy suddenly burst out, and all at once she was gripped by the realization that this was the first time he had said her name. When she did not continue her assault, he said again, "Please..."

She was shocked. She shouldn't be shocked. He was only using her name to try to disorient her because he was desperate and frightened now, his primal urge at the simple need for air overriding his pride.

All at once she couldn't take it anymore, couldn't take staring at his face, at the way a few stray tears leaked from under his blindfold, or the way he looked ready to beg again any moment should she keep going. She couldn't take it so she stood up, walked to the door, then left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marian is not a happy camper. Neither is Guy. There's just one chapter after this one. I'll try to post it soon!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, life got in the way. I didn't mean that to rhyme lol.

Only hours later, Marian returned. She was quite annoyed with herself for leaving, for allowing him to manipulate her feelings, however slight, for him, but she was determined to redirect her anger at the man she most despised. For everything that went wrong,  _Gisborne_  was to blame.

As the afternoon dragged on, the freeze of winter slowly crept into the small room in which she'd housed the - current - Lord of Locksley. When she walked into the room, he was shivering openly and was again on his side, attempting to curl into himself. He was a sad sight and she was glad of it. His open shirt was, as was her intention, not helping at all with his current state.

"Cold, Sir Guy?" mocked Marian.

He tilted his head toward her as if he could see her through the blindfold, but did nothing else. Was he finally learning that nothing he did or said would help? Likely not, but Marian was determined to see if he ever would learn.

"So pretty," said Marian coldly, "so pathetic. I should remove all your clothing and see how it treats you. Then you would truly be a pretty sight and I could laugh as you freeze to death." The thoughts were jumbled and the words were strange, but she didn't care. There were two things constantly clashing in her mind now: that she  _wanted_  him, and that she  _wanted to hurt him_.

Guy still did not respond. He continued to shiver and moved the tiniest bit, attempting to curl further into himself.

This time, she'd brought water. He couldn't survive long without it, and she did not want her fun to be over too quickly. She jostled the waterskin and noted with amusement how Guy's breath hitched with anticipation at the sound - again, so much like an animal.

"Are you thirsty?" she asked casually.

Guy licked his lips and said, very quietly, "Yes..." His voice was raspy and it was amusingly appropriate given the question.

"Then beg for it."

He frowned. "No."

"Why not? You begged me yesterday, what is the difference? Do you want water or not?"

"I do, but-"

"Then beg me. If not then you can die of thirst for all I care."

Guy smirked, but it was humorless. "When did you begin to hate me so?"

"Hmm, about two seconds after I met you?"

"I don't believe you." He coughed and swallowed. "I don't believe you," he said again, quieter.

"And I don't care if you believe me...Sir Guy." Marian walked closer and made a point to shake the waterskin so the water could be heard.

Guy inhaled, then out of nowhere said, "Why do you continue to call me that?"

"Why, does it sound mocking? Or does it bother you that it distances us, that you are no longer, simply,  _Guy_."

"If you hate me so much why did you kiss me?"

"You mistake wanting to kiss a pretty face for wanting to kiss _you_."

He said nothing, jaw clenching.

"What's the matter, Sir Guy," smirked Marian, "don't appreciate being called  _pretty_  so often? Isn't it just galling to be reduced to your appearance at every opportunity?"

"I don't remember you ever complaining," he mumbled as he tried again in vain to cover himself more.

Marian's smile was dark. "Why should I complain when it was all a lie."

There was a short pause, then he said, "So it would seem..."

Marian sighed. "So beg me."

"I will not."

"Fine," Marian tossed the waterskin to the table. "Then you can die of thirst. Your choice."

"I find it difficult to believe anything here is  _my_  choice," he said bitterly.

"But you chose already," said Marian. "You chose a kiss, remember?"

Guy's smile - more of a grimace, really, was brittle. "Oh yes, incredible pain or a kiss, it was such a difficult choice."

"And is this such a difficult choice? To choose between dying of thirst or saying a few inconsequential words?"

"If they are so inconsequential why do you insist I say them?"

"Because I want to hear you say them."

"Why?" asked Guy, head tilting.

"That is no concern of yours."

"I think it is."

Frustrated, Marian rushed forward and kicked him as hard as she could - where, she wasn't sure. Guy yelped in pain, but a moment later he was laughing, or coughing, or both. "Is that all you can respond with?" he asked, voice strained. "I refuse you and you hurt me further? How far you've come,  _my lady_." He coughed several more times and couldn't seem to stop.

She watched him, anger boiling inside, but she refused to hurt him again. She didn't want to... To what? Why was she refusing herself? She had told herself, over and over, even before she had taken him, that she would not deny herself the satisfaction. Nothing he said would sway her,  _nothing_.

Even as he continued to cough, she kicked him again and said, "Yes I have, Sir Guy. You have yourself to thank for that. I've come so far these past years, I've  _learnt_  what it means to be ruthless."

"What-" coughed Guy as he attempted to compose himself, "what did you think, that I was somehow proud of that? That I was harsh on others because it somehow brought me pleasure?"

"I know it did," gritted out Marian. "You are cold, like a statue without heart. You care nothing for others and you think only of yourself."

"You're wrong."

"Am I? When did you ever consider what  _I_  wanted, hm? You were always so concerned with making me  _yours_  that you never once considered if I even liked you."

"You do like me-"

"No,  _you're_ wrong. I liked the  _idea_ of you, of a man who could be changed for the better. But that isn't possible, is it? You're rotten to the core, just like the sheriff."

Gisborne bared his teeth. "You think you know me but you know nothing. Everything I ever did, it was so I could provide for you, so we could one day be married and I wanted-"

"It's still all _about you!_ What  _you_  want!" shouted Marian as she kicked him along his side. She kicked him again and again, and she couldn't bring herself to stop, even when he was saying something to her, begging something she couldn't hear. She only stopped to scream: " _I hate you_! I hate everything about you! Everything you are, everything you think you  _will_  be. It was  _never_  for me and  _all_  for you. If you truly cared for me you would have considered what  _I_ wanted, but you never did!" Stopping, she stumbled backward, startled that she was screaming at an unconscious man. She stared, wide-eyed. Was he..? She bent down and listened for his heartbeat. "Guy..?" Fortunately, his heart beat strongly. She leaned away and sighed in relief.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Marian sat by his side, staring at him as she watched his sleeping form. He was bruised, cut, with blood smeared everywhere, but still he looked so peaceful, somehow handsome while he slept. Why did even the vilest people always look innocent when asleep? She carefully removed a few locks of stray hair from his forehead, and was very tempted to remove his blindfold. She knew she couldn't see his piercing cold-blue eyes, but when he finally awoke... No, she couldn't. He was blind and he would stay that way.

"Sir Guy..." she said softly. "It's time to wake up." She lightly tapped his face and he groaned, long and low. He was waking up, but he wasn't quite there yet.

Marian lifted the waterskin to his lips, then grabbed the back of his head and tilted it forward so he could drink. As if on instinct, he sputtered and drank quickly, almost greedily, and waking further, he began drinking too much and might have drowned if she hadn't pulled away. He coughed several times as Marian laid his head back down.

After a few moments only filled with his shaky breath, he asked, "Why?"

"Why what?" she responded, even knowing what he meant.

"Why did you give me water?"

"You were right before, so I took the choice from you," she stated flatly. "And besides," she smiled a little, "you did beg me by the end."

"What-"

"So we both got what we wanted," she said as she tossed the waterskin to the corner.

He nodded, but suddenly looked wary. "And what else do you want from me, my lady?"

Tilting her head, she said, "I prefer to show, not tell."

She rushed closer to him, but before she could do anything, Guy hurriedly said, "No please, wait!"

Surprised and amused, Marian scoffed, "Begging already? And so soon?"

"You'll forgive me if I don't wish to experience more pain." He curled up enough that his arms were shielding his face. "You wish to hear me beg? Very well then. I beg of you:  _please_  no more. I am cold, tired, hungry, in pain, and I am  _sorry_  for what I've done to you so  _please_  do not hurt me further." He paused a moment and added quietly, "I will do...whatever you wish."

Marian stared at him without remorse, without feeling. What did he think was happening here? "I wish nothing from you. There is  _nothing_  you can do to stop me. Nothing you can say or do that will sway my course. You think begging will force sympathy out of me? You think me some foolish, simpering girl who would fall for your tricks?"

"No-"

"I don't care what you think. I  _will_  hurt you more and I will _not_  stop."

"No, wait-"

She pushed him harshly onto his back and he shouted in pain. Jumping on him, she wrapped her hands around his throat. "You have wronged me, Sir Guy, and I will  _never_  forgive you, not even when you are  _dead_." She squeezed tighter and tighter and smirked at how feeble his attempts to fight back were. "And when you're in hell," she continued, "I can only hope your suffering will continue - as the suffering of others by  _your_  hand has continued." He was gasping for air like a fish and it was sad and pathetic to watch.

Even through his constrained throat he managed to whisper: " _Marian...please..._ "

Not wanting to grant his request, she did not let up. She waited a few more moments before, of course, letting him go. Her intention wasn't to kill him, but he didn't know that.

He coughed severely for a long time after, and Marian allowed him to recover. She wanted him to feel comfortable - relatively speaking - before she started again. Of all of her assaults, being deprived of air seemed to frighten him the most, so this would be her chosen device. She briefly considered hauling some water down here so she could drown him as well, but it seemed too troublesome. Not to mention that she might be seen and a lady of rank would never be hauling water anywhere for any reason.

Guy wheezed out, "No more...no more..." but she did not heed him. She slowly, deliberately, grabbed him about the throat, then revelled in the way he squirmed, trying to get away and beg all at once, but his words were incoherent. She tightened her grip and watched him writhe.

"How does it feel,  _Sir Guy of Gisborne_ , to be so without control? You no longer have any power. Your rank doesn't matter, your title is  _nothing_. All your efforts to rise above your so-called lessers are for naught when you would give it all away for a single...breath...of air." She squeezed even tighter as his face turned colors, then before he could lose consciousness she let him go.

This procedure went on for so long Marian lost track of time. She was sure it was night now, but couldn't be certain as there were no windows in this place.

She had been surprised, at first, when Guy began crying - not a blubbering, messy fit, but there were tears and they wouldn't stop. Regardless, it was so unlike him, and yet after a while it became less unusual. He begged quite a lot during his 'breaks', and his voice had long ago become a monotonous, neverending string of pleas. She stopped hearing the words after a while and she refused to wonder why that was.

Remaining astride him, she stared, her arms limp at her sides. He was quietly catching his breath, but there was something different in his manner; if he were not blind, she was sure his eyes would penetrate the very walls, but in a meaningless, empty gaze. Marian suddenly couldn't remember what she was doing, or even why. Why was she hurting this wretched figure of a man? He seemed so small and harmless suddenly, like an animal hurt by a hunter's arrow, limping timidly toward her. She couldn't think why she would ever hate such a creature; the hate seemed so harsh now, misplaced.

Slowly, she leaned over him until her arms flanked his head, then watched him sniffle and breathe. She wondered if he was even aware of her. Perhaps he had lost his mind somewhere along the way - perhaps they both had.

Marian stood, expressionless. She went into the room directly outside, rifled through the strewn equipment and found a blanket, then walked back into the small room. First, she grabbed a knife and cut the rope linking his wrists to his ankles, but kept him otherwise restrained. Next, she placed the thick blanket on him, and made sure that he was mostly covered. Saying nothing, thinking nothing, she walked out of the room and back up to the castle.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

_What have I done?_

When Marian dreamed that night, everything was cast in darkness, swallowed into a nightmare of falling forever and ever without end. Guy was not there, nor Robin. There was nobody, only that emptiness from before, of an eternity of nothingness in every direction.

She did not fly awake. Her eyes popped open, wide and sleepless, and her breath was steady and calm. Everything was still, static, lingering and ready. She did not like it. Outside, the day was overcast, the wind howling like banshees against the castle's walls, beckoning with noise for something she thought might have been lost.

For the first time, she did not wish to go down to Gisborne, or to even see him. She considered for a moment that she would leave him to his death, surely he deserved that, but she couldn't do it. Her feet moved, one in front of the other, sending her down and unerringly into the castle's depths. Somewhere along the way she had grabbed a half-loaf of bread, but she didn't remember doing it.

When the final door creaked open, she was, briefly, afraid of what she might see. Would the floor suddenly open up and swallow her? It seemed likely. Yet when the door tapped against the back wall, all she saw was a sad figure huddled in a corner, shivering and grasping tightly the blanket she had given him, as if afraid it might be taken suddenly.

Swallowing, Marian approached slowly. He had not moved very much from his previous position, only a foot or so, but she found herself glad he could move at all. Only a raven-haired head and an ear poked out, but when she approached, he covered himself further.

Looking at the half-loaf in her hand, she realized he would need water more. She spotted the waterskin in the opposite corner, grabbed it, then moved to kneel next to him. Since Marian did not speak, it was some time before Guy, likely curious as to what was happening or if she was even still there, slowly lowered the blanket. It was strange, though, because he hadn't removed the blindfold even when he could have. Perhaps...perhaps he was afraid she would be angry if he removed it. Yesterday that would have pleased her greatly, but today it only made her feel...strange. Had he truly been changed so much? Surely she could not have influenced him so, and in so short a time.

After a few more minutes, Guy lowered the blanket further so she could see more of his face. Seeing his neck, Marian inhaled sharply. His throat and neck were a mess of deeply-colored bruises, and it was clear why he did not - or rather could not, speak.

Pursing her lips, Marian said, "Sir Guy?"

Although he flinched and went to hide under the blanket again, he did not hide completely. He kept the upper half of his face visible and seemed to be measuring Marian's mood.

"I am not here to hurt you," she said softly. "Here," she shook the waterskin a little so he could hear it. "Water...for you." Guy seemed reluctant at first, but he soon lowered the blanket, at least enough to show his mouth. She tilted the waterskin so he could drink, but when he winced and coughed, spluttering the liquid all over the place, she pulled back. His still-tied hands went to his throat and he wheezed out a long, whining noise of frustration - he was probably very thirsty and couldn't even drink without hurting his throat.

"Would you like to try again?" she asked.

Guy took some time to consider, but he finally, if reluctantly, nodded. She again lifted it to his lips, but it took two more tries before he gave up. He did get some down, at least. The bread was offered next, but he shook his head and looked utterly miserable that he couldn't eat either.

"It is alright," said Marian reassuringly. "You will be able to eat and drink easier...soon." She smiled a little, but realized he couldn't see her. Bending a little closer, she asked, "Why did you not remove the blindfold? Did you think I would be cross? It's alright, you can remove it." Guy frowned a little and touched the cloth over his eyes very carefully, but he did not remove it. "Go on," Marian encouraged. There was a long pause before Guy, very slowly, pulled on the blindfold. But as he struggled to remove it completely, Marian moved in to help. When he jumped at her touch, she stopped and allowed him to do it himself. It took some effort, but he finally removed the once-white piece of cloth. He blinked in the torchlight, trying to adjust his eyes.

The two sat quietly for some time, Guy becoming accustomed to seeing again, and Marian sitting awkwardly and wondering what to do. Despite her regret in how terribly she had treated him, or rather... tortured him, she had not forgiven him; neither for herself, nor for others. He was a despicable person, and this experience was unlikely to change him. Of course she had not  _meant_  to change him, she had meant to hurt him and...and to eventually execute him. Now that she ran through her previous plans for him, she felt disgust at her own thoughts. He had certainly been hurt, and she had, more than likely, almost killed him, and now he was looking at her like she was the Devil incarnate and she couldn't blame him. She had thought all his wrongs could excuse her wrongs, that evil could not be done to evil, but now she realized how utterly stupid that sounded.

Guy stared at her with wide eyes as he pulled the cover closer. How strange he looked now, huddled underneath a flimsy cloth that would not protect him if she suddenly decided to hurt him again. But that knowledge made her want to reassure him further, to tell him she was done, that she would not...punish him any more. She sighed at her thoughts. It had never been her right to  _punish him_  at all. She was not the sheriff or the law, and nor would she wish to be in this rotten town.

Even with her regret, however, she still could not think to simply release him. She had considered her choices: set him free and have her secrets exposed - and become an outlaw in the process - or simply kill him to protect herself. The latter she no longer considered an option at all, but the former was not very appealing either. Though she had once considered living in the woods with Robin and his band, over time it had lost its appeal. She had changed so much these past months, her actions toward Gisborne, if anything, evidence enough of that. It wasn't possible now, no matter how much she wanted to be closer to Robin. She wasn't...worthy.

Since Marian had no idea what to do with Guy, they simply sat there in silence for the remainder of the day. When night fell and she retired to her room, she tried to think of every other option that she had not yet considered. All her choices seemed to either involved letting him go or killing him, and neither was acceptable. She had done him wrong, yes, but that did not excuse his own actions over the course of his life. He was still a terrible person, and because she knew he would never face justice, she felt justified in not letting him go - even if she hadn't the right to directly punish him. But what else could she do? She sat at her fire, thinking, the night dragging on.

A sliver of sunlight peeked through her windows, and Marian groggily lifted her head from her desk. As she stared at the sunlight, slowly but surely gliding its way across her room, the idea hit her all at once. Why had she not thought of it earlier? Guy did not deserve freedom, but he also did not deserve death, at least not by her hand. The only solution was to confine him without killing him. The idea was not a common one; most criminals were executed or otherwise punished in some horrific way so as to discourage further crimes, but it was not unheard-of to imprison some wrongdoers long-term. However irregular, she saw no other option.

It wasn't very easy to sneak down to the castle's dungeon that night, but her years as the Nightwatchman were not wasted. After retrieving what she needed from there, she rushed down to the hidden room. As she closed the door behind, Guy was sitting up against the wall and staring at her. Actually, he was staring at what was in her hands, eyes wide and worried. It took a few moments, but his wide-eyed stare slowly morphed into disbelief.

"I know this is not..." began Marian as she approached, but she stopped and sat down in front of him. The chains in her hands clinked, and it suddenly seemed too wicked to use, even on Guy of Gisborne. He continued to stare at them, but when he swallowed, he winced in pain and then seemed angry with himself.

Uncertain what to say or even if she should attempt to explain, Marian walked to a metal ring embedded into the wall, secured one end of the chain to it, then walked back to Guy. He stared up at her, frowning, as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

"I am sorry," she murmured as she bent down to clasp the metal fetter around one of his ankles, but before she could, Guy shook his head desperately and pulled his bound ankles away, staring widely, even accusingly now. "I have no choice," said Marian. "Did you think I would simply set you free? I cannot. You must pay for your crimes, Guy, but...but since you never will,  _I_  will mete out that punishment as best I can, or at least, as mercifully as I can." At first he glared at her, but then he looked down, resigned. Giving him one last moment, Marian clasped the metal around his ankle.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

The next few days were a strange rhythm of the back-and-forth of a new learning experience. Marian tried to provide Guy with what he needed to live in a cell long-term, including a soft place to sleep and many blankets for the cold. While she was afraid the room might be discovered some day, the truth was that this section of the castle was no longer used. There was only one way in and out - which was why Robin had never used it - and the room's door was fairly well-hidden, if not perfectly. Only a person specifically looking for a hidden door would find it. Marian had been one such person because Robin had asked her to find any other hidden passageways that he and his outlaws might use in the future. It had almost been fate, finding the room, because her thoughts lately had fallen to Gisborne and what she might do to make him pay for his crimes. Of course, it hadn't gone as she was hoping. In the end, she found no satisfaction in his pain. For his part, he seemed...changed - more than her, perhaps, and it bothered her for both their sakes.

When she walked into the room today, Guy was sitting in his usual spot on the bed, which was on the floor in the far corner opposite the door. He had barely given her a glance since his imprisonment began. His injuries had been treated, but he still looked very poorly, and his new shirt, which Marian had retrieved from his wardrobe, was warmer than the last, but did not hide his bruised and cut face, nor his damaged throat. Still, he was healing, if slowly.

More than anything, though, Marian worried for his state of mind. He still flinched when she drew near or moved too quickly, which she supposed was to be expected, but it did not make her feel very good - not that she expected any of this to feel good.

She set down the plate of food she had brought, then moved to leave. Guy's ruined voice, however, stopped her. "Why..." He chanced a glance at her, swallowed thickly, then lowered his eyes to the floor. Despite that he seemed determined to look neutral, Marian could now easily spot whenever he was afraid. She tried her best not to think on how horrible that was. For a moment she wondered why he would be afraid of asking such a simple question, but soon remembered her threat on the first day, that she would kill him if he ever asked  _why_. It surprised her that he had actually refrained from asking that question, especially since it was likely the one he wanted to ask most.

Although she first moved to approach him, the way he crossed his arms over his chest and lowered his head further made her do the opposite; she backed up even more so she was nearer the door.

What was the answer to that question? In many ways she had already answered it, and many times over. It was strange, then, that Guy still did not understand. "I...have already said," she began quietly. "You must pay for your crimes-"

"No," Guy interrupted in his broken voice. He briefly looked worried, but he continued on. "No, I..." He shut his eyes and kept them shut. "Why do you hate me so much?"

Marian smiled a little. She had already answered that, too, but perhaps a man like him couldn't hear what was needed until his, well, until his guard had been lowered, his armor removed. It was just unfortunate that she'd had to do it so forcefully, and in such a terrible way. She hoped he was willing to listen now.

Walking to his bed slowly, she sat on the end of it. "Well," she began, slightly smirking, "you were right that I was lying when I said I hated you two seconds after first meeting you..." She continued on, explaining everything about how he had wronged her, about how he had hurt her. And finally, when he had not said anything in protest, she tried to explain how he had wronged others, and that it was  _not_  acceptable.

While she had to admit, at least to herself, that she was not the best person to explain these concepts as it was slightly hypocritical, there really was no one else. She might tell Robin eventually of her secret prisoner, but not just yet. Truthfully, she was afraid of what he would think, but more than that, she was afraid of losing him. She had already lost Guy, she knew that and accepted it, but she couldn't bear to lose her Robin. Someday she would tell all, but for now, Guy was her secret, and no justice in the world could lift the weight of what she'd done. It was her burden to carry, and she had little choice but to march on, to hope that someday, somehow, justice could find both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this, and I'd love to hear your thoughts! I'm already considering a sequel (and I have an idea for a second sequel), so we might get into what happens with their relationship from here on out. ^w^


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